


How Could I Aspire To Do Any Less?

by Space_Interrobang



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable couple is adorable, Archon Dorian, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Interrobang/pseuds/Space_Interrobang
Summary: Dorian and Vivienne have worked hard to rise in the ranks of Tevinter society after the defeat of Corypheus. And after several long years, Dorian gets ready for his coronation to become Archon where he will bring change to the Imperium, and consequently, the world.





	How Could I Aspire To Do Any Less?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before Trespasser came out, so there's no mention of that just in case you were wondering about the timeline. Just pure domestic fluff.
> 
> The person who inspired this (zevransbutt on Tumblr) totally called the archon au, in my opinion, btw  
> *Re-posted from my old Tumblr.

“I’m just saying, why should I wear these infernal ceremonial undergarments if no one is going to see under the robe? It’s just silly,” Dorian complained softly, turning from side to side as he admired himself in the floor-length mirror. His ceremonial robes were black and plush with gold laced trimmings, wrapping around his waist and over one shoulder like a toga. Of course more modern adjustments were made so it fit more snugly, collar widened, adding to the ensemble plenty of gold jewelry and a deep crimson sash. Dorian thought it looked like his middle had been split open and he was bleeding if you stood far enough away; making the outfit more macabre than would ease him. It reminded him of the Archon who was assassinated almost immediately after trying to outlaw slavery. He also detested the lack of shoes. Instead, the fathers of the Imperial Chantry had his soles wrapped in a material he didn’t recognize, winding all the way up to his knees like black serpents. The man stepping up behind him reminded him of what he did like about the ceremonial garments. The Inquisitor held out a small wooden bowl filled with shimmering gold paint as he smirked into the reflection of the mirror.

“Perhaps they just want to see if you can still act demure with rough cotton wedged up your—“

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dorian interrupted, giving his lover a pointed look. "Language, darling. Save that tongue wagging of yours for tonight. After the coronation.” An adoring smile grew on the Inquisitors face, drawing those neat little lines around their eyes that the mage enjoyed. “You are an honored guest of the Imperium after all. We must act appropriate.” As an answer, the warrior pressed his lips to one of the golden clasps on the shell of Dorians ear where three delicate chains hung down and connected to a twin clasp on the lobe. The Tevene over-exaggerated a sigh and took the bowl of paint. “Sometimes I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth, amatus.” The Inquisitor chuckled, stepping back to sit in a nearby armchair.

Dorian took up the small paintbrush and leaned in close to the looking glass, beginning to dab on the traditional markings to his face. Three dots on each cheekbone and a line on each eyelid. His mind wandered to all it took to get to that moment; getting ready to walk out into the heart of the Minrathous Chantry and be crowned Imperial Archon. A lot of silent blood was spent. A lot of good change had been made.

After some time with the Inquisition, Dorian had resolved himself to go back to his homeland without the Inquisitor. Instead he got Madame Vivienne de Fer. With little purpose left after Leliana became Divine and disbanded the Circles, the enchanter offered her services to help him navigate the political intrigue that would surely come with his return. While he knew it well enough, he hated political gambits. Vivienne, however, reveled in The Game. It was as natural to her as dressing or breathing.

Upon returning to Qarinus, Dorians father had given him his prestige back, after the shock subsided of course. It took less time than he would have thought for the nobles to start accepting Vivienne as well. Her silver tongue and slight of hand did her credit. It also helped that she was one of the only mages in southern Thedas to hold any power, dominating the crude discrimination that everyone outside of Tevinter were savage. It only took a few months for her to be granted citizenship in the Laetan class. The woman completely slaughtered the political game, working with Leliana to rise higher in social rank all while supporting Dorian as he worked to gain favor from the Imperial senate. He didn’t just focus on the Magisterium, either. He ever-so subtly drew his lot with the Publicanium as well. While that particular house of the senate held little-to-no power, it was meant to represent the lower classes and would prove invaluable if his plans succeeded.

Several years—and several dead magisters—later, the two of them had managed to hold two thirds of the senators in the palms of their hands. A magister found corrupted here, a well-placed up and coming noble there, and Dorian had his supporters. Vivienne had even somehow weaseled her way into becoming the first woman to become Black Divine. It had caused quite the stir, to put it lightly, but the people have accepted her as most they could. They both agreed it was her discipline against the Templars that finally brought the lower classes to her side, which happened to be the majority of the populace. Now instead of turning the other cheek, they inforce the laws in the Circles, and Vivienne couldn’t be happier.

Change was sweeping the Imperium, and Dorian and her took advantage of the rising tide.

Archon Radonis met an undignified end when he took ill and died choking for air in his chambers in a coughing fit after battling the illness for several weeks. It was such a shame, really, to go in such a manner. The physicians said his lungs had given out. And then because of Radonis’ egregious pride, there was no heir appointed.

So there Dorian stood, elected as new Imperial Archon, unable to make the gold line on his eyelid straight. He cursed under his breath as the Inquisitor laughed in amusement.

“You’re nervous,” the warrior declared with a satisfied smile. He crossed one ankle over the other to recline further back into the chair. It was rare to see the ever-confident mage flustered.

“It’s all this humidity,” Dorian excused, trying again to make the lines meet _just so_ to create wings, and finally succeeded. When he went to set the brush down his fingers were trembling.

“You can’t blame the humidity for everything, Dorian.”

“Well I can damn sure blame it for messing up my hair.”

“I don’t know, I rather like how its gotten all wavy. Did it always used to do that?”

“No,” the mage replied almost bitterly. He dipped his thumb and forefinger into the paint bowl, bringing them up and carefully styling his hair so a few of the strands in front shined gold as well, drooping down onto his forehead instead of back like he usually wore it. The Inquisitor stood then, and wrapped his arms around his lover, resting his chin on the one bare shoulder.

“You look…regal,” was all he could offer. No, that wasn’t true. "Resplendent.” Dorian wiped the excess paint from his fingertips before turning to face his amatus. He wanted to pull the Inquisitor closer, to kiss him until everything else disappeared, to just get this ceremony over with so they could come up with an excuse to not attend the feast afterward. But he knew he couldn’t be any more distracted. Instead, he gave him a small smile and pushed on his shoulders.

“You should go join the other guests outside. You do, after all, have the best position in which to view my resplendent looks.”

“But of course, your Grace.” The warrior bowed. “I look forward to meeting you again on equal ground.”

“You’re powerful, Inquisitor,” Dorian answered lightly. “But not as powerful as an Archon. I’ll be looking for you in the crowd.”

“You’ll be fine, Dorian,” he comforted. The mage let out a small sigh. It helped, if only smally. “You’ve made it this far. How hard can twenty more steps be?”

“You don’t have every noble in Tevinter staring at you, waiting for you to trip on your robe and break something, though. Do you?”

“Perhaps they just want to catch a glimpse of the famed ceremonial undergarments,” the Inquisitor quipped, which made Dorian chuckle. The warrior leaned forward without warning and gave Dorian a chaste kiss before stepping out the door to join all the other nobles. Warmth spread to his toes, nerves abating in a wash of pride. He looked over himself one more time in the mirror and took a deep breath.

“Maybe I don’t look _completely_ unkempt,” the man conceded. The outfit was growing on him. He thought about keeping the face paint; it made him more dramatic. He liked drama.

The moment had come. All those years bickering about his homeland, unable to do anything to help. And now he was about to become one of the only ones who could. Clasping his ringed hands in front of him, shoulders back, chin up, he strolled out of the room into the Chantry. The great hall stood tall with traditional Tevinter statues of dragons and Andraste alike, banners hung for the occasion. Two great masses of dignitaries were congealed on both sides of the aisle he was to walk down, the white flower petals that were spread around sticking to the bottom of his feet. As he took his first step forward, the nobles on either side of him bowed respectfully, and he gained confidence in his stride.

On the opposite end of the aisle by an altar stood Vivienne, now Divine. She dressed similarly, however without the sash, and instead with a headdress. Like the ones she used to wear in Orlais, it came up like horns, only she had tailors make it in accordance with Tevinter fashion so small studded spikes ringed around the base of each “horn”. If he didn’t know for a fact they were friends, he would have been scared she was plotting to murder him once he reached the altar her expression was so stern.

His heart quickened, head getting dizzy as he knelt before Vivienne. She gave a speech he didn’t quite hear through the rushing in his ears. His knee ached by the time it came for him to quote the Imperial oath every new Archon had to recite. "Before the Maker and the Imperium’s nobility, blah blah blah, etc." He could feel the sweat drip down the back of his neck. He still half expected to be assassinated right then and there.

Vivienne took the Tevinter crown from its velvety pillow and held it aloft his head. It was gold like a lot of things in Tevinter, forged so it appeared as if two dragons were crashing heads. Their horns the center, wings wrapping around the sides, so their tails connected at the back. He idly thought about how much he wanted to put that pillow under his knee. Dorian gazed up at the Black Divine. Her voice commanded the room as she spoke the final words and gingerly placed the crown to his head.

“Rise, and meet the eyes of the people.” He rose to his feet and faced his new kingdom. He felt like a ruler. Is this how the Inquisitor always felt? If so, he could understand why he had such a big ego. “All Hail your new Imperial Archon, Dorian! Long may he reign!” Her voice boomed, full of pride.

It was done. Change would ebb in soon, and then Tevinter could finally get the respect it deserves back. It could do _so much_. He would not falter.

The Inquisitor caught his eyes towards the front of the crowd, grinning like a love-struck schoolboy. Dorians heart skipped a beat and suddenly he knew beyond doubt that it had all been worth it. For him, for his homeland, for everything good left in the world.

The Chantry boomed with the resounding echo of the Inquisitor and nobles repeating the Divines phrase, a showing of their loyalty to him. He would make good on his promises. This country would never be the same again.

"Long may he reign!"

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally inspired by three pieces of fanart and a giddy conversation I had with said artist after seeing them. You should check out all their stuff they're a wonderful, talented human being.  
> Here's the links~  
> http://zevransbutt.tumblr.com/post/107235726591/yknow-how-dorian-was-talking-about-how-his-parents
> 
> http://zevransbutt.tumblr.com/post/107257155246/dramatic-archon-aesthetic
> 
> http://zevransbutt.tumblr.com/post/107333024611/reminder-that-in-the-archon-dorian-au-viv-crushes


End file.
